


Sting of Salt and Spray

by Tassos



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode tag for 4.1, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, background pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:10:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/pseuds/Tassos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duke's boat is unchanged when he gets back from six months in the barn. Unchanged except for Nathan standing in his cabin, staring like he's afraid Duke will slip away.</p>
<p>Episode tag for 4.01.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sting of Salt and Spray

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Lover's Wreck by Gaelic Storm

The truck is parked neatly by the pier, half in shadow from the street lights. Duke blinks at the familiar shape for a second, another unexpected sight in this Haven he's come back to. Coming around the side, he ducks a little to see better that, sure enough, that's Nathan leaning with his head against the window, eyes closed. He's relaxed in his thin jacket, which can't be enough to stave off the chill in the night air that's had Duke hunched in his coat the whole walk over from the Gull. Fall arrived and moved in to stay while he was in the barn.

"Oh Nathan," he breathes out, exasperated, then raps on the window. Nathan startles awake and stares at Duke until Duke makes a window cranking motion with his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Nathan asks when it's down. Duke tilts his head meaningfully toward the _Cape Rouge_.

"I think that's my question," he says. "Don't you have a house you could be sleeping in?"

"Everyone knows where I live," Nathan says, turning to look out the windshield. The Guard he means, and Duke sighs because he can't blame him for being paranoid. And it's just like Nathan to sit on the doorstep and freeze instead of actually coming in from the cold.

"Okay, come on." Duke lifts the door handle, startling Nathan again who reaches to keep the door closed.

"Duke, I'm fine. I don't need -"

"You're shivering, Nathan," Duke interrupts, spacing the words apart to get them through Nathan's thick skull. "Now, come with me."

Nathan still hesitates, but Duke holds his eyes, and after a minute he lets Duke pull him out of the truck.

Duke's boat, thank God, is relatively unchanged. Wade told him he'd only done a cursory once over after a couple of storms, but he got seasick even in the gentle sway of the harbor. "And I don't want to be part of anything that might be on your boat," he'd added. Duke hadn't had much going on in the run up to the barn's arrival, but he didn't tell Wade that.

Nathan follows him inside without protest and stands in the middle of the cabin while Duke checks things over and gets the heat going. When he glances over his shoulder to make sure Nathan's still there, he finds him watching him, an expression on his face that Duke's more used to seeing turned toward Audrey. Feeling self-conscious, he turns back to his closet where he's digging out the extra blankets, but when he turns around, arms full, Nathan's still staring.

"What?" he asks. "You're creeping me out."

Nathan shrugs, but doesn't look away, his amused smile twitching out the corner of his mouth. Duke shoves a clean shirt and pair of sweatpants at him. His skin is cold where their hands touch, and Duke slides his fingers under the cuff of Nathan's jacket -- his arm has goosebumps. 

"I can't feel it," Nathan says, and Duke looks up at him because the smile is gone as fast as it had come, his voice is thick and lost. Nathan's eyes are on Duke's hand, which he curls around Nathan's forearm in a tighter grip. That Nathan also won't feel.

"I know," says Duke, softly. A thousand things pile up to say behind his teeth -- but none of them mean anything. "Get changed," he says instead. 

He sheds his own jacket and starts making up the bed. When he turns around, Nathan's got his outer layers off and is just pulling up his t-shirt. His torso is covered in purple, yellow, and green bruises. 

"Jesus, Nathan," Duke says, only getting another shrug as Nathan hides them again under the clean shirt.

"I can sleep in the other room." Where he couldn't stop looking at Duke earlier, now he can't meet his eyes at all.

"Yeah, no. It's freezing in there. We'll be warmer together." And Duke has the sudden urge to never let Nathan out of his sight ever again. He's the one staring now as Nathan changes into the sweatpants. Duke strips himself down to his boxers and debates whether or not to pull on a long sleeved shirt in concession to the cold, but then Nathan is crawling under the covers so Duke follows, sans shirt, and hits the light.

At first they lie there on their sides, staring at each other by the moonlight that filters in through the portholes. It's weird, and at the same time reminds Duke of a handful of sleepovers from when they were kids, the blankets pulled up over their heads and a flashlight tucked between them.

Everything's different now, of course. 

A bruise on Nathan's collarbone peeks out from under the borrowed shirt. Duke brushes his fingers over it, and he can't help it, he presses down, checking Nathan's face at the same time for any reaction. The movement's half a reflex, half a need to break the weird tension that's settled over them. 

Nathan gives him another twisted smile that's anything but happy.

"Quit it," Nathan says, but even though he brings his hand up to grasp Duke's wrist, he doesn't actually push him away. It's like Nathan's stuck, doesn't know if he's coming or going, and his cold fingers don't let go.

They're shaking. 

Nathan grips Duke's wrist tighter to make them stop, but it's too late to hide, and Duke can feel the shudder through his palm on Nathan's collarbone anyway.

"Nathan," Duke starts, but the words fade from his throat as Nathan closes his eyes and curls in on himself, like touching Duke unlocked all the stored up emotion trapped inside. 

Every bit of Duke knows that it should be Audrey here instead of him. She'd know what to say, be able to _touch_ and smooth Nathan's rough cracks, figure out what had happened in the last six months that had led to this Nathan, on Duke's boat, so different from the man Duke knew yesterday. She's the one Nathan needs.

But Audrey's not here. And not knowing what else he can do, Duke scoots closer to Nathan, wraps his free arm around his back, and just holds on. Their knees knock together, and Nathan's skin is still too chilly -- he can't feel any of it anyway. But Duke can. He can feel the clench of Nathan's hand still on the wrist caught between them, the shake in his shoulders that could be from the cold except that Duke can feel damp tears on his bare shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry I couldn't save her."

Nathan doesn't answer, but Duke's not expecting forgiveness.

Part of him still can't believe that he's been gone for six months. A darker part of him is grateful that it was him who jumped after the barn, and wasn't left behind, alone. Wondering for six months what the fuck happened while the Guard hunted him down -- and Duke has no illusions that that would have been it for him. No conflicted ex-girlfriend or sometime cleaner to speak up for him. No, he would have been deader than a doornail in 24 hours. And if he did survive -- Duke pulls Nathan closer. 

After a few minutes, Nathan's breathing starts to even out, his body temperature rising. Eventually, he lifts his head, and though he doesn't look Duke in the eyes, he finally lets go of Duke's wrist. It already feels like it's bruising.

"You really didn't see her?" Nathan asks one more time.

"No," Duke says. "I was looking for her when I fell into that fish tank."

He expects Nathan to push him away, now that he's calmed down. He definitely isn't expecting Nathan to reach out and touch him, his eyes following fingers that can't tell him about the whisper of skin beneath them. His touch sends a shiver down Duke's spine but he holds himself completely still, uncertain what's running through Nathan's head and not wanting it to stop.

Nathan traces Duke's collarbone, up to his shoulder in the small space between them, then trails up the muscle of Duke's neck to his ear, his cheek, his nose. Finally, Nathan's eyes meet his, his palm sliding flat against Duke's face.

"You're really here," Nathan says. He sounds sleepy and drunk both, but Duke can't look away from the shiny glint off his eyes that otherwise reflect black in the semi-darkness. Duke feels the weight of them down to his very soul, and with it the crushing hard fact that Nathan asked him to bring Audrey back, and he failed. It was her choice, but Duke can see every second of Audrey's absence etched into Nathan's face. Duke's been back for a day, he loved Audrey too, and he's just beginning to feel how deep that cut goes. 

He opens his mouth to make a joke but what bubbles out is another apology. "I'm sorry it's me and not her. It all happened so fast, I couldn't -"

"Hey. Duke." Nathan's hand on his face shifts to hold him still when Duke tries to put some distance between them. This time Nathan's the one with a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close until their foreheads touch. "Duke," he repeats until Duke forces himself still, eyes closing of their own accord. He can feel Nathan's breath on his lips. Nathan can't feel his. 

"You're really here," Nathan says again, the hand on the back of Duke's neck tightening. "Audrey --" Nathan swallows, "I miss Audrey like crazy. But I missed you, too."

Duke squeezes his eyes shut against the sting in his chest.

"I thought I'd lost you both," says Nathan.

It's like that moment after he fell from the barn into the tank when Duke, shocked by the fall and reeling from the most insane day of his life, swam to the surface and took his first breath.

For once he doesn't try to say anything. Opening his eyes, he slides his arms back around Nathan, as best he can when they're both lying down. Nathan hugs him back, knees knocking together, until he slides one between Duke's and they entwine together, just holding on.

Nathan's face is so close that he has three eyes staring back. He can't feel Duke's arms around him, but he can see when Duke dips his head to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Duke."

"Don't overthink it." It takes an effort of will for him to not drop Nathan's gaze. 

"Okay." Nathan's twisted not-smile is back, and Duke doesn't fight the relief he feels or his own matching smile that turns into a huff of laughter. Because the two of them are two jagged pieces of a broken puzzle, and it's either laugh or cry.


End file.
